


The Quest for Iscandar Reversed

by asthiathien



Series: Yamato Reversed [1]
Category: Space Battleship Yamato | Star Blazers
Genre: "Spring Water", Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Canonical Alcoholism, Canonical Character Death, Desslok Has Issues, Desslok Is Manipulative (And is Also Somewhat Insane), Everyone Is Sarcastic, Everyone is Paranoid, Gen, Insomnia, Making Up These Tags Is Way Too Much Fun, Non-Canonical Character Death, Rebellions, Semi-Canonical Racism, Seriously This Is Like a Game of Diplomacy, Talan is Rather Absurdly Loyal, You Ain't Guessing Where This Is Headed, attempted genocide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2053281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asthiathien/pseuds/asthiathien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year 2199, the twin planets of Iscandar and Gamilon have fallen under siege by the Earthlings. Radiation bombs have poisoned both planets' atmospheres, forcing their populations to flee to cities deep beneath the surface. As the last warship of Gamilon returns from their defeat at Rajendora, a message arrives from the vast reaches of space - a message from an Earthling named Nova who promises a device called the Cosmo-DNA to the people of the twin worlds, if they can make it to Earth to receive it. <br/>Desperate for any chance at saving their worlds, Gamilon and Iscandarian volunteers launch in a refitted ship called the Yamato, even as tension brews between their respective races and Nova's comrades battle against the Earthling government on their own homeworld. They have only one year to traverse a journey of 148,000 light years and back; will they return?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This work can also be found at FF.net, under the same username and title. I decided it was past time for AO3 to have a little Yamato beneath its umbrella. This is my first work on this site, so I don't exactly have the formatting down.   
> This first chapter is also a little strange, since I didn't quite have this universe down yet. Trust me, it gets better.  
> (And also, making up those tags is WAY more fun than it should be allowed to be.)

Chapter One  
August 17, 2199   
0315 Hours Earth Time   
In Orbit around Rajendora, Sanzar System

Pale starlight struck the glistening surface of Rajendora, reflecting off it to illuminate the Gamilon fleet in orbit around it. All the ships bore the scars of recent battles, some barely operable. In the center of the fleet hovered a slender blue flagship, the command ship of Desslok, Leader of the Gamilon Empire and commander of the attack.

“Talan, any sign of our Earthling friends?”

“None, sir,” Talan replied, scanning the radar. “The patrols have seen no action, either.”

Desslok narrowed his eyes. “It’s not like them to stay quiet for so long.”

Desslok was younger than the previous Leaders had been, with short blond hair that hung slightly into his eyes. They were a clear, icy blue that contributed largely to his charismatic personality. His black cape trailed on the ground behind him, draped over his right shoulder and fastened on his left with a gold pin.

He carefully surveyed the bridge crew. Talan, a general of the Gamilon military, was his second-in-command and closest friend. His intelligence and calm nature countered Desslok’s more impulsive decisions, and had saved them more than once.

The vast majority of the bridge crew was younger than usually served aboard the ship, if not outright rookies. They were nervous about the prospect of their first battle, but took reassurance in the fact that they had Desslok with them. They believed the ship was invincible so long as they had him in command.

_If only that were so._

“Warp signatures!” Talan yelled. “Contact acquired with the Earthling fleet!”

“How many?” Desslok demanded.

Talan’s sharp blue eyes scanned the readout, counting silently. “Thirteen battleships, seventeen carriers, and thirty-five destroyers!” He let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s without counting their fighters.” 

“So, it’s to be a brawl, is it?” Desslok muttered. Several of the rookie crewmembers smiled slightly. It’s all right; we have the Emperor with us. _We_ won’t be killed.

“Radio contact,” the operator called out. “The Earthlings are ordering us to surrender or face their wrath.”

The crew looked expectantly at him. Desslok turned to the gunnery chief, a slender youth with short brown hair. “Xandir, target their largest ship and fire.”

Xandir grinned, his light blue eyes sparkling with expectancy. “Yes, sir!” He spun to face his console. “Firing solution 5, three seconds to firing.”

The ship’s main guns swung around to point at a ship hovering in the center of the Earthling fleet. “Fire!” Green beams of energy arced through space and struck the ship, which exploded in a brilliant blaze of light that vaporized several nearby ships.

“That got their attention,” Talan commented dryly. The Earthling ships opened fire on their Gamilon counterparts. Several ships exploded, the blasts missing Desslok’s flagship by inches. 

“Comm, contact Damiru’s ship and tell him to take control of the other half of the fleet. And send out orders to our ships to return fire!”

The communications officer nodded and adjusted the frequency. “Damiru, take control of your half of the fleet and counterattack.”

* * *

 

Damiru nodded, his bright blue eyes flashing. “Finally, a chance to strike back against those Earth demons. Helm, point us at the Earth fleet.” The carrier maneuvered around to face the enemy, its guns singling out several targets.

“Sir, we have firing solutions on five ships,” the gunnery officer reported. Damiru nodded.

“Open fire and tell the other ships to do the same.” Green lasers slammed into the enemy ships, bouncing off harmlessly. “What?” he shouted. “Desslok’s ship destroyed them with a single blast!”

“ _Imperator’s_ weapons were upgraded when they went in for repairs, remember?” Damiru’s first officer reminded him. Damiru let out a soft curse.

“Very well. Send out a communication to the fleet. Any ships that have had recent repairs take over the offensive. As for the others, I want them to target the destroyers and fighters. Their armor isn’t as strong.”

The communications officer nodded and sent the message out to the main fleet. The more recent ships rained fire on the main body of the Earthling fleet, whereas the others let off wide blasts to pick off the Earthling fighters. One, trailing smoke, struck a nearby ship, both exploding in a titanic fireball. Damiru’s ship shuddered slightly as it passed through the shockwave. Another Earthling vessel streaked past them, and Damiru yelled instinctively, “Fire!”

The ship’s lasers soared through space and impacted against the armor. However, another Gamilon destroyer had fired upon the same ship simultaneously, and the twin blasts pierced its hull.

“Sir, Earthling vessel destroyed!” the radar operator yelled.

Damiru smiled. Finally, a bright spot in this hopeless battle. “Send that information to Desslok, quickly!”

* * *

“Status of the fleet!” Desslok shouted from the bridge of his flagship.

“Heavy losses sustained,” Talan reported. “Squadrons 2, 5, and 8 are down. 11 and 13 have disappeared.”

“Contact lost with 17!” the communications officer shouted.

One of the ships close to the flagship was struck by a beam of energy from an Earthling command ship and exploded, taking out two nearby destroyers with it.

“Message from Damiru! The Earthlings can be destroyed with a simultaneous blast from two—” A shot struck the bridge, sending the ship listing to port. The bridge crew was thrown to the ground, several consoles sparking. Another shot slammed into the side, blasting a gaping hole in the ship’s hull.

“Desslok!” Talan yelled, looking frantically around the smoke-filled bridge. The ship was hit again, knocking him to the ground. “Helm, right the ship and try to avoid those blasts!”

The young man at the helm tilted the ship to starboard, correcting its list to port. The ship took another shot, which barely missed to starboard. Xandir focused the ship’s remaining weapons on the Earthling vessel, destroying her. Talan spotted movement near the back of the bridge and ran over, rewarded by seeing Desslok kneeling by the body of the communications officer.

“Earthling demons,” Desslok snarled. “They were too young to be in battle, let alone die in it.” He staggered to his feet, wincing in pain. “Damage report . . . all decks.”

“Turrets three and four are out, turret two badly damaged. Port missile decks hit, flight deck completely obliterated.”

Desslok hit a button on the communication console. “Venikira, engine status.”

“Engine reduced to 76% and falling. Warp drive damaged. We can still warp, but we’re restricted to small jumps.”

“Incoming transmission!” Talan called out. “Switching to main video panel!”

Damiru’s face shimmered to life on the panel. “Leader, we’re down to five ships.”

Desslok nodded sadly. So, that was how it would be. “Rejoin the fleet around my flagship. We’ll go down fighting.”

“My apologies, Desslok, but I cannot allow you to do that.”

“Damiru?” Talan said questioningly. “What do you mean by that?”

“I cannot allow you to die, Desslok,” the black-haired officer said matter-of-factly. “The only reason the Gamilon people have fought for so long is because they believe we will succeed so long as we have the great Desslok by our side. Should you die, their morale will be crushed. Our homeland will be overrun within a matter of months.”

“Damiru - ”

“We’ll cover your escape.” His face flickered away, and the remainder of the fleet moved towards the Earthling vessels. The enemy fleet remained still for a few seconds, as if shocked. After a few moments, they began to rain fire on the approaching ships. Several exploded, dangerously close to Damiru’s command ship.

The weapons fired randomly into the fleet, destroying several of the enemy, but they moved to surround the lone vessel. A few Earthling ships disengaged from the main fleet and fired on Desslok’s flagship.

“Helm, warp us away from here.” The bridge crew stared at him in confusion.

“What are we doing, Leader?” Xandir asked, his light eyes questioning.

“Honoring Damiru’s final wish,” Desslok murmured, bowing his head.

Talan nodded sorrowfully and motioned to the helmsman. He nodded and began preparing the ship for warp.

“Three, two, one. . . Warp.” The flagship warped away, but not before Damiru’s ship, crippled and caught in the gravitational field of Rajendora, drifted down through space before exploding in a single huge fireball.

* * *

 

Desslok’s flagship, severely damaged and spewing smoke from several jagged holes in its side, de-warped in orbit around Gamilon. Desslok stared sorrowfully out at the planet, which was near death. Three years prior, the Earthlings had launched a surprise attack which had won them the base on Rajendora. From there, they had begun launching planet bombs containing radioactive material to impact on Gamilon and its twin, Iscandar. The surface was now saturated with radiation, and the population of both planets had been forced underground for survival. However, even the underground cities were not impenetrable. The surface radiation was slowly creeping down towards the small pockets of life. In one year’s time, the planets would be completely uninhabitable.

Xandir scowled angrily at the planet’s surface. He, like many others, was too young to remember much of life before the bombs had fallen. In some ways, that was a blessing. He would not mourn as much when the radiation made its way to the cities.

But Desslok and the other officers of the Gamilon defense force could remember when dark green forests had covered the surface of their mother planet. Desslok could see the spiderweb of light that had stretched across the Gamilon surface from its many cities.

But far crueler was the bombing of Iscandar. They refused to fight back, and had no spacefleet with which to do battle anyway. And it was Iscandar that had always been the fairer of the twin planets, with the multitude of life that had thrived on its surface, making it as bright as Gamilon was dark.

Both planets looked the same now, with near-identical light brown rock that had been pitted with craters from the bombs.

“Sir!” the radar chief called out.

Desslok turned slowly. “What?”

The soldier squinted at his panel through sharp eyes. “I’m picking up something strange . . . an Iscandarian vessel?”

“An _Iscandarian_? Bring it up to the video panel!”

A pale silver ship shimmered to existence on the panel, streaking across the stars. It trailed a bright blue flame that marked its path as clearly as if some cosmic will had created a line of stars to follow behind the ship.

“That’s a royal vessel!” Talan exclaimed. “What are they doing here? That’s too dangerous for an unarmed ship!”

“If whatever is on that ship is so important that they must trust it to a member of the royal family, it is far too important to wait for several days until the current Earthling patrol leaves,” Desslok responded.

“Speaking of the Earthling patrol,” the radar operator said with false calm, “it’s converging on the ship.”

“Xandir, get a firing solution on that patrol,” Desslok ordered. “Battle stations!”

“We’re not battle ready!” Talan objected. “This is a suicide mission!”

Desslok spun around to glare at him, blue eyes flashing with barely suppressed anger. “We can’t just watch! Besides, that ship is in Gamilon airspace, which means we are bound to assist it if at all possible. Furthermore,” he added in a whisper, “a victory here will soothe the crew’s wounds from the previous battle.”

“They’re firing!”

Blue streaks converged on the Iscandarian ship, tearing strips of metal free from the hull. One struck the engine, which let free a wide swath of smoke as the ship began a downward spiral.

“Xandir, now!” Desslok shouted. “Open fire, wide barrage!”

“Firing!”

The flagship’s weapons sliced down on the Earthling patrol, tearing it to shreds. The remaining ships turned to fire on the flagship, but the helmsman brought the ship around, missing the enemy fire by a matter of meters.

“Torpedoes!”

Slender missiles streaked from the bow, fanning out to strike several of the ships. The remainder, sensing they were at a disadvantage so close to Gamilon, warped away.

“Ha!” Xandir yelled. “Take that, Earthling scum! You can shoot down our fleet, but we will never allow you a victory in our airspace!”

Desslok smiled slightly, turning to chart the course of the Iscandarian vessel. “Helm, take us down.” The bridge crew, though still ecstatic from the victory, quieted somewhat as the flagship moved to dock below the planet’s surface. Behind them, the Iscandarian ship struck the surface, sending up a plume of smoke.

* * *

 

Krypt was waiting for them at the dock, the look on his face clearly saying that he knew of the events that had transpired in Rajendora’s orbit. “Leader, we need to discuss—”

Desslok brushed him away. “Cabinet meetings can wait, Krypt. An Iscandarian ship just crashed on the surface.”

“A— _what?_ ”

Desslok sighed. “Talan, Xandir, come with me. Krypt, there are wounded crewmembers on board this ship. See to it they get medical attention.” He gestured to the soldiers following Krypt, signaling them to follow him.

“Well, where are you going?” Krypt called after him. His only response was the sound of a door slamming. He sighed resignedly and muttered, “He never tells me anything.”

* * *

Talan ran across the bleached plain after Desslok, flanked by the Gamilon soldiers and Xandir. He almost tripped over the edge of a nearby crater, one of the smaller ones, only about 150 feet across. The bulky protective suit made movement difficult, especially long-distance sprints.

Xandir pulled up beside him, gasping for breath. “How. . . is it. . . that we. . . have to wear these suits. . . while Leader Desslok doesn’t?”

Talan shrugged and began running again. Xandir let out an exasperated hiss and followed him. After a few more minutes, they found the crash site.

The once-beautiful ship was in ruins, its silver hull bent and twisted out of any recognizable shape. It lay at the bottom of a large crater, the outer layers scattered around the area, revealing the interior of the ship.

“There’s no way anyone survived that,” Xandir said sadly. Talan nodded in agreement, glancing up towards the empty cockpit. A shape hovered into view, a slender construction of polished metal that sat perched on the lip of the crater.

“An escape pod!” Talan shouted, picking his way up the loose scree rimming the crater. He hauled himself over the edge, ignoring Xandir scrabbling up the slope behind him as he beheld the scene.

Desslok knelt by the side of a young woman, and, as Talan watched, he gently brushed the woman’s long gold hair from over her face, whispering, “ _Aethir miana hiatu centuri._ ” Talan blinked in shock as he recognized the ancient Gamilon blessing, “ _May your spirit live forever amongst the cosmos_ ,” which was usually used only for those held in high honor by the Gamilon people. He quietly wondered how his Leader knew this young woman.

Xandir pulled himself over the crater edge, panting. “Talan? Where’s. . .?” He fell silent as he saw the Gamilon Leader kneeling by the side of the fallen woman.

“Go and help the others piece together the wreckage. We need to see if there’s anything important down there,” Talan ordered in a whisper. “We’ll be fine here.”

Xandir moved off slowly, casting Desslok a worried glance. Talan turned back to him just as Desslok leaned forwards, lifting a small red capsule from the woman’s hand. He slowly got to his feet, looking down at the capsule curiously.

“Who was she?” Talan asked, moving to stand at Desslok’s side.

“Her name was Astra, sister of Starsha, Queen of Iscandar.” He lifted the capsule, which appeared similar to something the older Gamilon civilizations used to transport secure messages. “But _this_ is what I don’t understand. It’s not Iscandarian, and it’s made out of material found on neither of our planets.”

Talan narrowed his eyes. “Who would be sending a message to us, and why now? The conquered worlds wouldn’t bother, and no one else seems to care enough about us to do anything about the Terran invasion.” He scowled as another thought struck him. “Maybe it’s an Earthling trick to taunt us over their accomplishments.”

Desslok sighed. “Maybe, Talan, but Astra seemed to think it was important, and she is _incredibly_ intelligent. Along with her sister. I—”

He broke off suddenly as he staggered and nearly fell. Talan ran up to him, noticing for the first time that his right arm had been hit sometime in their battle with the Earthling fleet, likely when Damiru had sent them that message. He attempted to help him up, but Desslok brushed him away.

“I’m fine, Talan.”

Talan let out a long sigh. “You are an idiot, you know. Are you ever going to let me get you medical treatment while you’re still conscious?”

“No.”

“That was rhetorical.”

“I know.”

“I am going to kill you one of these days,” Talan hissed.

Desslok smiled. “No, you will not. That would mean you would be in command of the defenses.”

“ _What_ defenses?”

Desslok sighed, turning to look up at the sky, in which the remains of the Fleet glow with pale fire. “You’re right, Talan. Our only remaining defenses are the fighter bases and my flagship.” He lifted the message capsule, turning it so the light slanted through the glass midsection and dappled the hideous orange ground. “But this is a chance for us, Talan. For _both_ of us.”


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
August 18, 2199   
1100 Hours Earth Time   
Tokyo Megalopolis, Earth

Derek Wildstar gazed out the window of his office, over the battered surface of Earth, his homeworld. He scowled. Once, the surface had been covered with living creatures, organisms unique to this one planet. His people had once called this place “the blue planet.” That color had long since faded from the surface, only preserved in aquifers deep beneath the ground.

A knock came at the door, startling him from his thoughts. “Sir?”

Wildstar sighed as he remotely opened the door. “Sandor. No need to call me that.” The title still stung, a reminder of the time when he had called others by that name.

“It is a matter of military protocol, sir,” Sandor said as he entered, smiling.

“No, it is a matter of you trying to annoy me.”

“Naturally, sir.”

A pen bounced off Sandor’s head.

“Just give me the report already!”

Sandor nodded, the smile on his face fading as he set it down on Wildstar’s desk. “Venture is worried about you.”

“Tell him I’m fine,” Wildstar said irritably as he picked up the folder. “I’m just stressed, is all.” _I wish that really was all_ , he added silently.

The knowing expression on Sandor’s face implied that he knew full well what he had been thinking. “Very well.”

He closed the door firmly behind him, and Wildstar looked back out the window. For the thousandth time, he wished it was someone else in this chair, that the President and Commander Singleton had not died in that volcanic eruption which had coated half of Megalopolis in ash and rock.

 _I don’t want to have to abandon you_ , he thought, looking down at Earth’s surface. _But I have no other choice, if I want my people to survive_.

Against his judgment, he opened the folder. Dash reported that the battle had been successful. Gamilon’s defenses had been neutralized.

Gamilon. The planet had been beautiful once, before the bombs constructed from the nuclear waste of the old fission plants had made its surface nigh indistinguishable from that of Earth. They had never been able to figure out what to do with that stuff, not even after they had invented the Cosmo-DNA. There was just too much of it.

It had been Dash’s idea to bomb the planets. Wildstar had assigned him to the offense, and, as was typical of him, he had not even tried a diplomatic approach. He had simply attacked them. Wildstar was grudgingly impressed; he had never anticipated that Dash was a strategist as well as overly suspicious and untrusting. Iscandar had submitted quickly, but Gamilon had put up plenty enough resistance for the both of them. According to the report, the Gamilon Fleet had finally fallen in battle, but not without taking a good portion of Dash’s ships with them. One flagship had escaped, but it had been badly damaged, and probably couldn’t put up much of a fight.

Wildstar angrily stabbed the side of the report with his pen. If only they had had more time! The only option Earth had was to immigrate to another world, and Gamilon and Iscandar were the only planets he had found capable of supporting Earth life. He would have gladly taken the most inhospitable world possible, so long as it could support them, rather than have to kill off the population of another.

He sighed and withdrew the pen, tearing off some paper as he did so. As he removed it from the tip of the pen, Wildstar noticed writing on the back. He hurriedly flipped the sheet over, revealing a hastily scrawled message.

_Commander Wildstar - Sorry about the tone, but this is urgent. Patrol Beta Oh-niner-seven ran into an Iscandarian shuttle heading for Gamilon. The signature of the message capsule came up on their scans. They shot it down on Gamilon, but that flagship I was telling you about kicked their butts back to Pluto II, what they call Rajendora. Nova’s message got through at least to Iscandar, possibly to Gamilon as well if they managed to recover the capsule. And, in case you think this isn’t as much of a problem as I think it is, I know the Gamilons will fight to the death even if there isn’t a chance. If there is a chance… they’ll fight until they are obliterated to get it._   
_With all due respect: we are DEAD if they know._   
_-Dash, Commander of the EDF Advance Fleets_

Wildstar let out a long sigh. “As if I didn’t have enough to worry about. Nova, I can see your point, but if their survival means our death, then I choose our survival.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I personally think the story starts getting good and throws off most of the stranger writing style it was plagued with in the previous two. The rest sloughs itself off by Chapter Seven. (Interestingly, this also mirrors the rise of a much more sarcastic side to the characters. Personal preference, maybe?)

Chapter Three   
August 18, 2199   
1430 Hours, Earth Time   
Gamilon Capital City, Planet Gamilon

“You are an idiot.”

“So I have been informed, thank you, Talan.”

“You had three pieces of shrapnel embedded in your arm!”

“Four.”

Talan threw his hands in the air. “Exactly! You are positively suicidal!”

“You know, General, I don’t think he’s listening.”

Talan rounded on the skinny, bearded Gamilon physician. “You stay out of this!”

“May I point out that you have had this conversation already?”

“No. You may not.”

“Isn’t there something about excessive shouting not being conducive to recovery?”

“Ignoring battle injuries is _most certainly_ not conducive to recovery!”

The physician got to his feet and let out an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, sometimes I don’t know which one of you is more infuriating.”

Talan gave him a sharp look. “Kimal, shut up. You’re not helping.”

“I’m just the doctor.”

Talan frowned. “‘Doctor?’ What, exactly, is a doctor?”

“Earthling term for a physician,” Desslok said flatly.

“And why is this important?”

“Hey, it distracted you, didn’t it?” Kimal pointed out dryly as he moved towards the door. “Try not to kill each other.” He closed the door behind him with a slam that was exactly the right proportions of exasperated and sarcastic.

“You know, I’d wonder how he learned that,” Talan said softly as he stared at the door, “but then I remember how much of his time he spends around us, and then it all makes perfect sense.”

A few seconds later, the pale silver-white lights overhead turned dark, and a softly glowing matrix of light appeared over the darkness. Talan turned in his chair to see Desslok studying a spinning disk made of millions of pinpricks of light.

“Why are we using the hologram, which, I admit, is fairly impressive, when we can just look at the galaxies on a display?” Talan said with a long-suffering air.

“A display is a two-dimensional image, Talan. Space is not. In order to properly convey the spatial proportions, an image of three-dimensions is necessary.”

“And I presume imitating a scientist is equally necessary when studying your fancy, twirling spatial models?”

“Naturally.”

Talan leaned forward, trying to figure out what the hologram was displaying and giving himself a mental reminder to brush up on his Ancient Gamilon. “So, what are we looking for, exactly?”

Desslok held up the message capsule. “This. I already know it is an alloy of Cosmonite and another rare element which has, apparently, a proclivity for being able to absorb large quantities of radioactive material and dispel it over a short period, retaining the radioactive components but discharging all others. And, according to the spectral scan, it is found in sufficiently high quantities only in this galaxy—” he gestured to the pale, starlit disk between him and Talan “—known to us as _Centur Kliskhai_. And the place with the highest concentration is here, on Terra.” The galactic image was suddenly replaced with a small solar system of approximately eleven planets, all surrounding a moderately bright yellowish star. The hologram zeroed in on the third planet, a dark brown sphere covered with layers of white clouds and the occasional spot of emerald heralding vegetation.

“So this is what Terra looks like,” Talan said. “I presume this was copied from Earthling ship data?”

“Indeed.”

“A Terran trick, then?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

Talan looked up. His friend’s face was guarded, but Talan could tell from the hopeful light in his eyes that there was something he had missed. (Of course, there was always something he had missed when it came to Desslok, but that was irrelevant.) “What is it now? A little nick in the paint that means it was stolen and reprogrammed?”

Desslok laughed at that. As this accursed war continued, it became increasingly difficult to make him show genuine amusement instead of the mirthless laughter which had become commonplace in his dealings with the Terrans. “An interesting idea, my friend, but no. They would have known we could locate the device’s point of origin if they used such a rare material. They would have _expected_ us to. Therefore, the most likely, if still improbable, conclusion is that the sender of the device intentionally constructed it so we would know this is a genuine message instead of a trick.”

“Wonderful. He’s been using the holographic galactic display system again.”

Talan spun around, and stopped his battle preparations midway through when he noticed the speaker was merely Senior General Krypt. Krypt noticed and raised an eyebrow. “I’m only a frail old general. Don’t mind me.”

“Old, yes. Frail? Not so much.”

“Excuse me!”

“Be happy I didn’t agree with you.”

Krypt shrugged and crossed over to Desslok, who was monitoring the reports sent in by the Gamilon fighter bases. Stationed along the moons of the neighboring planets, the bases worked independently of other fleet support to repel hostile intrusion into the Gamilon/Iscandarian area. For the most part, they were successful, allowing only the occasional patrol to break through their net. “Kai’s squadron seems to be more intended for fleet support than independent action,” the Gamilon Leader said calmly.

“That was their initial training, yes,” Krypt said.

A light sparkled in Desslok’s dark eyes, in the way it always did when he had a plan in mind.

Krypt must have noticed it as well, because he said dryly, “While you still are paying attention, I must inform you that the Council has convened and been discussing the current situation.”

“Is that so.”

Krypt lifted the message capsule. “Hmm. Intriguing device. It appears similar to those used by the Gamilon-Iscandarian alliance, but the creation is far more modern. A long-distance communicator, likely with only a single intended recipient—!”

He suddenly dropped the device as it glowed a vibrant blue and then faded into a holographic display, with a slight bluish tint still to the image. The hologram showed only a young woman, with medium-length blonde hair and gentle brown eyes that seemed somehow. . . haunted. She glanced to the sides of the image, and then said in a gentle voice, “I can only hope that those of you who see this message will be either Queen Starsha, her sister, Astra, Leader Desslok, or a highly placed member of the Gamilon hierarchy. If this message plays at all, I will know it has reached both Gamilons and Iscandarians.

She paused, considering, and then said softly, “I am Nova of Earth, or what your people would know better as Terra. Suffice it to say that I believe that what my people are doing is wrong, for to say anything more would compromise the few friends I have left. You will already know that the message capsule I have sent to you is composed of an alloy of Cosmonite and what we know as Purificium. This alloy enhances the natural traits of Purificium to their maximum potential. This capsule could likely purify at least an area approximately 32 acres if given sufficient time. However, time is something which is short to us all. Thus, the scientists on Earth have created a mechanism, which we know as the Cosmo-DNA, that makes this purification process almost instantaneous.

Nova smiled for the first time, something that made her features light and delicate and completely destroyed that haunted look in her eyes. “So, I offer this chance to you. If you are capable of traversing the journey to Earth and back in time to save your homeworld, then you shall receive this gift.” She looked away for a moment, her eyes darkening once more. “But I cannot send it to you. My influence here, even on my homeworld, is limited. It took much to be able to transport this to you. It is you who must carry out the journey.”

“I am certain you will come.”


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four   
August 18, 2199   
1543 Hours, Earth Time   
Unknown Location

She walked alone through the abandoned city.

Light still shone here, but only in the flame she held in her hand. The rest was only in her memories.

She reached the door and slid it open, her light reflecting off pools of water in which plants grew and thrived, as a memory of what had once been.

What her people had torn away from Iscandar and Gamilon.

Her eyes still stung as she remembered those days. Commander Singleton had been like a surrogate father to her, the one who had taught her about the harsh realities of the world. And also of the darkness in people’s hearts.

But could anyone have guessed that another people had dared attack their homeworld? Could anyone have anticipated the bombing raids, the nights of constant terror, before what had been their world had ended in smoke and fire?

She remembered that so clearly. She had been serving at Central Hospital that night, the little coincidence that had saved her life. She had just exited the building, glancing up at the sky to spot a late-night raid, when she had seen the streak of red and gold across the sky. The light of something undergoing reentry into the Earth’s atmosphere.

And then it had slammed into the earth, and there had been an explosion which consumed all she saw before it went black.

After that, Wildstar had become darker, deadlier. His inclination towards vengeance had gone too far. He had not been merely satisfied with the destruction of those who had attacked Earth without provocation. He had to conquer, so, as he said, no one would ever feel as the people of Earth had felt again.

But, absorbed in his quest, he had noticed that he had become identical to those who he had sworn vengeance against.

It was at Iscandar and Gamilon where she finally decided she could stand by no longer. They were wholly innocent, in alliance which forbade them to attack one another. And since the whole of the Magellanic Clouds were the territory of either one or the other, they had no nearby threats.

She slowly walked through the garden, passing into the final room that somewhat resembled a darkened, miniaturized version of the EDF Headquarters. This was why she was here. An unidentified alert from the message capsule.

Her hands flew across the keyboard as she accessed the data. The route consisted of a maze of interconnected backdoors, with no small amount of hacking. Some would call such precautions paranoid, but there were geniuses in the EDF. Some might turn against her.

The display changed, switching to the alert. There was only a single line of text.

**< Message received by both parties. Message was viewed and acknowledged.>**

She smiled for the first time in months, triumph lightening her heart, before she remembered her people. Those she had just betrayed.

Nova lifted her gaze to the stone ceiling, above which, she knew, her closest friend stood.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Nova whispered as tears began to fall from her dark eyes.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
August 19, 2199   
0935 Hours, Earth Time   
Council Chamber, Gamilon Capital City

 _The Council will not like this, Desslok said_ , Krypt thought with no small amount of annoyance. _And was he right._

"How can we trust this Nova?" Volgar yelled for the third time that day. "She's an Earthling! How can we trust any of their race?"

"What other choice have we?" Lysis demanded sharply. "I knew you were an idiot, Volgar, but I didn't know you would go so far as to renounce our only chance of survival!"

"And it is a better course of action to blindly follow her to our deaths?" Shultz shot back. "I know that is folly, Lysis!"

"And the last of our fleet was destroyed at Rajendora!" Kranshaw shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "We have only a single ship left at our disposal, and it cannot both defend us and embark on an interstellar mission."

"To the contrary," Lysis snapped, "to head directly for their home planet would force them to redirect defenses to repel us."

"And that is a truly _wonderful_ plan, Lysis," Volgar hissed. "Purposely redirect attacks to a single ship and hope it somehow miraculously is able to fight against larger attacks than even our good battle at Rajendora. _Brilliant_ , my friend!"

Desslok calmly rested his left hand on the table and silence fell almost immediately. "You forget something," he said softly. "The message was addressed to Gamilon and Iscandar. Iscandar is in the same peril as we are. And, they have always been our superiors in the field of technology not relating to war. It is likely they have ships in reserve."

"You would consult with them?" Krypt asked, hiding his shock. _I always knew you were more friendly towards them than others, but I never expected this. . ._

"I would," Desslok said as he stood. "And, as time is something we have very little of, we must do so immediately. Krypt, Talan, you will accompany me along with Major Kranshaw."

"So, what will we do, _sir_?" Volgar said coolly.

Desslok gave him a sharp look. "Wait, until I contact you with the outcome of the meeting on Iscandar," he said calmly. "Unless you are _discontented_ , Volgar? Under normal circumstances, I would allow you that, if for no other reason than for my amusement, but a great number of the very people you would protect would be affected. Bear that in mind as you make your move, _my friend_."

He turned and left, gesturing for Talan, Krypt, and Kranshaw to follow. Krypt walked forward to stand at Desslok's side, and he hissed, "Volgar has become rebellious. I fear he may move against you."

"Then I am greatly benefited by the fact that it is you who will be dealing with them."

Krypt stopped dead. " _What?_ "

"It is my intention to make the voyage to Earth unless physically impossible. I also of the opinion that this Nova will be anticipating me and Starsha. So, I will be accompanying the voyage."

"You - " Krypt spluttered. "You're leaving us now? In the middle of a _war_? _Are you mad?_ " Then something else hit him, and he nearly shouted, "And you're leaving Gamilon while a civil war is brewing? Not only does that make it even more likely the rebellious factions will attempt to seize control, _have you any idea how simple it is to destroy a single battleship?_ "

"I have survived my fair share of assassination attempts, Krypt," Desslok said dryly. "I do not need you to remind me."

Krypt paused and pressed his hands to his head. "As you wish, Leader."

Desslok gave him a strange look, but then turned away to confer with Talan.

Krypt fell back a few paces, and was startled out of his thoughts when Kranshaw said, "No disrespect meant, but how do you deal with him?"

Krypt laughed hollowly. "You'll learn how to handle it eventually."

* * *

The Gamilon transport gently lowered through the opening for the hangar, out of the sun untamed by any atmosphere. Slowly, the shielding slid back over the bay, turning the harsh light into something bearable. Waiting at the edge of the landing was a single young woman with dark blonde hair. She dipped her head as Desslok climbed from the craft, and said in a soft voice, "Leader Desslok, Senior General Krypt, General Talan. Queen Starsha awaits you in her council chambers." She turned towards a small crystalline hovercraft and entered, followed by the Gamilons.

 _I was here once before,_ Desslok thought as they passed through the city. _The underground Mothertown. Now. . . I am not sure if it would have been better had they not replicated it so well. Like this, it is a reminder of how the original city was forever lost to the accursed Earthlings._

Because the city was beautiful. The entire crystalline expanse shone with light than came from within rather than without. Shielded windows to the surface provided pale shafts of light which illuminated pools and gardens.

But the cruel fact of the underground imprisonment was undeniable. The sky of this shining city was the underside of Iscandar's crust, dark and stark reminder of what had been lost.

"Remember this, Talan," he said softly. "That we are no different from each other, save in appearance."

* * *

Queen Starsha rose from her chair and dipped her head to Desslok before turning to the Iscandarian woman. "Lady Yileena, you may go."

The young woman bowed deeply and left. As soon as she did, Starsha turned and said quietly, "Leader Desslok. What brings you here?"

"This," Desslok said, placing the message capsule on the table and triggering it. As the message played, he studied Starsha's face. She was tensing as the display went on, and as the message ended, she sighed and passed a hand over her face.

"So, what is keeping you from invading Earth for this 'Cosmo-DNA'?" Starsha said coldly. "Why are you even here?"

"We are not going to invade!" Kranshaw said hotly. "We would _never_ \- "

"Clearly, you are unfamiliar with your people's recent history," Starsha snapped. "That is _exactly_ what I would expect from you."

" _Enough_ ," Desslok said sharply. "We are here to _negotiate_ , Starsha. Nothing more."

"Very well," Starsha said, sliding back into her chair. "What is it you are here for?"

"We intend to make the journey to Earth, but to do so would leave us undefended."

Starsha sighed. "Go, then. We will survive without your _protection_."

"Then we shall," Kranshaw snapped, "and when we return with the Cosmo-DNA, rest assured we will not be sharing it with _you!_ "

Starsha raised her hand, and Kranshaw froze, caught in her psionic shield.

"You threaten me in my own house?" she hissed. "I could slay you with a _thought_ , you _insolent_ \- "

"Sister, **_stop!"_**

Starsha turned as a young girl with long gold hair ran into the room.

"Sasha!"

Sasha waved her hand and Kranshaw staggered as she dispelled the psychic field. Starsha knelt down by the girl and said gently, "Sasha, can you go wait for me in the other room? And don't worry about you detect, I'll be fine - "

"I detected anger, sister," Sasha said, "but it came from _you_."

Starsha stiffened.

"They are not deceiving you, Star," she said softly. "They truly do wish for your help."

"Sasha. . ."

"And why are you turning them away? We need each other's help. _And they have the one with the blood of Iscandar and Gamilas. . ."_

Starsha's eyes narrowed. "Do not speak of this, Sasha. It is Iscandarian alone."

"Will you help them?"

Starsha looked up. "It seems my little sister is wiser than any of us. Very well, I will assist you."

Desslok nodded. "In what manner?"

Starsha gestured to a screen on the right wall. It flickered, the dark crystal turning to a sharp image of a wreck of a warship submerged in the surface of Iscandar. "This is the _Yamato_ , an Iscandarian battleship from the ancient rebellions before Iscandar was united under a single leader. We can rebuild it to its original capabilities, but to turn it into a warship. . . that is your task."

"Could you not assist us, Queen Starsha?" Talan asked.

"That would break the peace we have held. But more to the point, Gamilon knows more of the art of war."

"And if this mission is to succeed, Gamilon and Iscandar must become one," Sasha said. "By combining your efforts to build a ship which can make the journey, you have already begun down the path to success."

Starsha nodded as if she understood, but Desslok suspected she knew no more than any of them. "Sasha, could you take the others into the other room and give them the data we have on the _Yamato_? I must speak with Leader Desslok privately."

Sasha nodded, and the solemn air about her dissipated and she became nothing more than a young child again. She beckoned happily to the Gamilons, who (with varying amounts of trepidation) followed her out.

The door closed behind them, and Starsha turned to Desslok. "Now," she said, "what has become of my sister, Astra? She should be here."

"Starsha. . . Astra is dead."

There was a moment of silence, and then Starsha said softly, "No, no, it - it _cannot! It cannot be true!_ "

"You know the answer to that."

Starsha let out a soft cry then, and a gentle wind blew through the room, stirring her hair into motion that did not stop even after the breeze dissipated. Desslok slowly crossed over to her, stroking her light blonde hair as tears fell from her pale golden eyes. At length, she lifted her head and whispered, "Then, I must help you. Astra. . . she always felt it was cowardly of us to stand by while you fought and died for us. She said there were some things worth fighting for."

She looked up, the sorrow in her eyes hardening to resolve. "She was right. This is worth fighting for. For Astra, we must do this. No matter the cost."

"Yes. _For Astra._ "


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
October 3, 2199  
0800 Hours, Earth Time   
Earth Advance Base, Planet Rajendora

“Sir, we’re picking up something strange from Iscandar.”

“Well? Don’t leave us guessing, Lieutenant.”

Chuckles spread throughout the room as the young officer saluted crisply. “Sir, what I mean is that we’ve picked up signatures which would indicate the construction of a warship.”

Dash leaned back in his chair, frowning. “Are you sure this is Iscandar? The planets do look awfully similar.”

“Yeah, now that we’ve bombed them to within an inch of their lives!” a young officer shouted. Approving nods spread throughout the room.

Dash scowled and barked, “People! You are _on duty_! Concentrate on your screens! You’ll have plenty of time to yell at lunch!”

Slowly, they turned around. Dash shrugged at the lieutenant. “It gets rowdy up here, since most of us don’t have a darn thing to do unless the Gamilons attack like they did seventeen days ago.”

“I heard about that, sir,” the young lieutenant said nervously. “Wasn’t there one flagship that escaped?”

“Yeah, the one with the enemy head of state on it. I swear, that guy has more lives than a _cat_.” Dash patted the lieutenant’s shoulder. “And don’t worry about this ‘sir’ business. Unlike drill sergeants, us actual commanders don’t stand much on formality.”

“Thanks.”

The lieutenant returned to his post, and Dash let out a long sigh and shut his eyes.

_So. Those Iscandarians pacifists are finally building a warship. We think. Wildstar is in one of his “moods” again, according to Sandor. Not the best idea to report that now, especially with the Nova catastrophe. Still. . . I’ll keep an eye on it. If it IS a warship. . . I don’t see how one ship could change much, but I don’t want to take that chance. . ._

* * *

“Talan. How goes the reconstruction of the _Yamato_?”

“Sire, the hull refit has been completed with Iscandarian assistance—” a cable snapped loose and whipped around, spraying sparks in all directions “—and the installation of the Wave Motion Engine is proceeding on schedule—” he grabbed the offending cable and tried to hold it in place “—as are the upgrades to the weapons to make it capable of fighting back against an Iscandarian fleet.” He threw the cable down and stamped it out with his boot.

“Wonderful. Oh, and Talan?”

“Yes, sire?”

“I am aware you were engaged in a wrestling match with a cable throughout the entirety of that discussion.”

Desslok cut off the communication and Talan let out a long sigh. A nearby Iscandarian noticed and said gently, “General, what’s wrong?”

“ _Him._ Sometimes I wonder why he even bothers listening to me.”

The Iscandarian patted his shoulder. “I think it’s because he _does_ care about your opinions on the matter.”

He saluted and began wrestling with the selfsame cable Talan had been dealing with. Talan smiled slightly as the Iscandarian, with the help of two Gamilons, finally succeeded in hooking it up properly. One of them wiped his forehead and saluted when he caught Talan’s eyes. “Sir, construction of our little _surprise_ has been completed. The first bridge is also repaired.”

Talan nodded to the engineer and headed up the lift.

* * *

It was somewhat ironic how two locations in the same ship could be so different. In contrast to the open-half-finished look of the engineering spaces, the bridge was sleek and clean. Several officers were moving between posts, checking over readouts of the ship’s refit.

“General!” an officer shouted, saluting, and the others quickly followed suit.

“At ease, gentlemen,” Talan said as he crossed over to the front of the bridge, watching his reflection in the forward windows. “What is the ship’s current state of readiness?”

“About 63%, sir,” a white-haired Gamilon officer reported. “In other words, we _could_ launch, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. And we’d likely fall in the face of a battle with an Earthling patrol.”

“And you are?”

“Venikira, sir. I was on the Leader’s flagship at Rajendora.”

Talan nodded, recalling the stout, bearded officer. He had a distinct sense that if Kimal and Venikira ever met, they would be immediate friends.

“Carry on, men. Inform me of any anomalies at immediately, understood?”

They all saluted and split off into their separate groups. Not long after Talan had given this order, a brown-haired official in the uniform of the Logistics division came up to him, and said crisply, “General, here’s the final crew list of all personnel, Iscandarian and Gamilon.”

Talan took the sheaf of papers from him and flipped through it. Most of the names were unfamiliar to him, but he did notice that the bulk of the Iscandarians aboard were stationed in the Mechanical and Life Sciences divisions, whereas the Gamilons were in the Tactical and Engineering divisions. Approximately an equal number of Iscandarians and Gamilons made up the Navigation division.

Finally, he reached the bridge crew, nodding in approval as he noticed that Xandir and Venikira were assigned to command Tactical and Engineering, respectively. They could keep the crewmembers in those divisions in line.

The people at the tactical radar and communications were unfamiliar to him, as both were Iscandarians, but the next name was very familiar to him. “Queen Starsha is commanding _Life Sciences_?”

The official shrugged. “She insisted.”

Talan glanced through the last four names. An unknown Gamilon had been assigned to Artillery, the secondary of Tactical. Desslok, of course, was in command, and he had been appointed Executive Officer and head of Mechanical.

He stopped when he read the last name. “You cannot be serious. He _cannot_ be the head of Navigation, let alone even _be here!_ ”

“He’s the most skilled pilot in the fleet. He’ll be an excellent Navigation officer.”

Talan scowled. He was tempted to continue the argument, but nothing would become of it. “Dismissed, Corporal.”

The officer walked off, and Talan turned to look out the window.

 _I suppose_ , he thought, _that he wouldn’t know what transpired at Rajendora. How his brother gave his life to ensure we could escape. He does not know it happened at Damiru’s request. All he knows is that his brother has been killed so we could live. And who knows what he will do with that information. . ._


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven  
October 6, 2199   
1103 Hours, Earth Time   
Space Battleship _Yamato,_ Beneath the Surface of Iscandar

“Commander Mekaer reporting, sir!” snapped the young officer as he saluted crisply to him. He was dressed in the uniform of the Fifth Independent Fighter Base, a black uniform with sleek gold markings.

Talan accepted the identification card from him and handed it off to another official. The verification process gave him ample time to study the young officer.

He wore the rank pins of a squadron leader, and a few symbolic pins which represented medals. Oddly for a pilot, his brown hair fell over his eyes in a manner that Talan guessed was intentionally rebellious rather than accidental.

But the young officer’s eyes were neither those of the star pilot or the rebellious young officer. They blazed with a hidden fire which put him uncomfortably in mind of Desslok’s eyes, though his were colder, more deadly. Mekaer’s eyes were sharp and passionate, but they also belied the faintest trace of hatred that was hidden in his sharp salute.

The official handed Talan the identification card, nodding, and Talan returned it to him. As Mekaer tucked the card back into his uniform, Talan said, “You’ll be commanding the Navigation division. I recommend heading to the bridge as soon as possible to familiarize yourself with the navigation systems, since the rest of the crew arrived yesterday due to them not having to be transported in from the farther bases.”

Mekaer nodded, and Talan was beginning to hope all this would go smoothly when he said, “Sir, if I may ask, why are you, one of the highest ranking officers of the Fleet and Leader Desslok’s personal friend, handling signing me in?”

This Commander was really reminding him far too much of Desslok for comfort. “I will follow my order, Commander,” he said, and mentally chided himself instantly. _You idiot, the point of this was to_ keep _him from resenting us any further than he already does!_ Judging by the flash in Mekaer’s eyes, he had said exactly the wrong thing. “That is loyalty.”

“I see,” Mekaer said slowly as he left. Upon reaching the door, he saluted quickly before more or less slamming the door behind him.

Talan shook his head. “I am tempted to go put on a suit of armor until Desslok and Mekaer have finished destroying this ship.”

* * *

 

"Sir, we're reading an increase in tachyonic radiation from that ship. If this isn't confirmation, then nothing is. The Iscandarians have built a warship."

Dash sighed, and stiffened again as another officer reported, "And they've transported about half a ship's complement from Gamilon and the surrounding areas. Intelligence says we think they've teamed up."

"Oh, for the love of - " Dash bit his lip, since most of the words he was thinking of using were a bit strong for a commanding officer of an invasion, especially when said commanding officer worked under Derek Never-Swears Wildstar himself. "Okay. Lieutenant, have our nearby patrol groups head over to take that thing out. Um. . . other Lieutenant, you open a channel directly to Wildstar. No, wait, to his _office_. I do not want to catch him showering or something."

"Sir. . . it's 1100 Hours on Earth."

"Yeah?"

"And. . . it's a Thursday."

"Just do it!"

* * *

He was simply grateful they hadn't yet told him to put on one of those ridiculous green-on-white armored uniforms everyone else in his division was wearing. His military facade would have simply changed and put it out of his mind, but he abhorred the idea of obeying any more orders than was strictly necessary. _"I will obey my orders, Commander."_ Did they even _care_ about his brother, or had they just told him to die and forgotten about it?

Mekaer flipped a few superfluous switches to make it seem as though he was working. This panel was so different from a fighter's cockpit, where each bolt had been designed with a specific purpose in mind. As soon as he could get permission, he was going to completely rebuild this stupid panel.

"What's your name?"

Mekaer looked over at the speaker, another Gamilon with shorter brown hair. "Mekaer," he said shortly, turning his gaze back to the control panel and mentally counting the amount of levers which would actually serve a purpose.

"I'm Xandir."

Seventeen. Out of thirty-eight. Really.

"Good for you."

"Finally, you've met someone ruder than _you!_ "

He looked over at the speaker, a young man with pale blonde hair seated at the Communications station. Another Iscandarian, like his second-in-command.

"I thought Iscandarians were supposed to be pacifists?" Mekaer said as he checked over the panel according to his military-issue checklist. Like the board, the majority of it was absolutely useless.

"There's a big difference between being a pacifist and being _nice_. And what about you? Except for the hair, you fill out every stereotype about Gamilons there is!"

Mekaer got to his feet, glaring at him. "And you'll never understand us, because only someone who's been in combat can understand the pain of losing a friend to war!"

"A war that maybe wouldn't have come if you hadn't invited it over for dinner!"

"You think we _asked_ for the Terrans to come and drop radioactive material on our planets? You think I _asked_ for my brother to die in this war?"

The Iscandarian gave him another sharp look. "Why must you always turn discussions into fighting? This is what I mean! If you could learn to curb your _tempers_ \- "

"Let's see how you react when some of your own people die to this war, _Iscandarian_!"

"So you think we've been unaffected by this war? We've lost as many as you have!"

"Oh? I've read your records. There was a deadly plague that was completely eradicated by the Earthling attacks. _We_ weren't benefited by anything like that. So, who _really_ suffered more from this war?"

"That's enough."

Mekaer froze. Even if the Iscandarian didn't recognize him, he did. He most certainly did. . .

"You forget that both sides were harmed by this war," Leader Desslok said coolly, but with a deadly undercurrent to his words. "If this mission fails, then _both_ Iscandar and Gamilon are doomed to destruction. You would do well to remember that."

Mekaer gritted his teeth. There he was, the same person who sent his brother off to die. And he was under his direct command?

 _Deal with him later,_ a voice whispered in his mind. _For now, you'll be more benefited by acting loyal. Let your vengeance for Damiru wait. Until a time when it would be best suited to carry it out. . ._

"I'm sorry, sir," he said as he saluted. "I allowed my emotions to take the place of better judgment. It won't happen again."

Desslok nodded, and Mekaer returned to his post.

 _Funny,_ Mekaer thought as he continued the checklist, making revisions wherever he deemed it necessary. _That could just as easily refer to my private agenda as well as my stated one. "I allowed my emotions to take the place of better judgment. . ." One thing's for sure: you'll never be able to attack him while having your emotions dictate your actions. . ._

A beeping sounded, and he instinctively looked over at the tactical radar screen. A tightly clustered group of blips was heading towards their position.

"Leader Desslok, Queen Starsha. . . I'm picking up a group of bogies, heading in this direction."

Queen Starsha? He looked behind him, and sure enough, there she was, wearing that blue dress of hers. He wondered when she'd shown up, since she certainly wasn't there when he was having his fight with the Iscandarian communications officer.

"Starsha, what's your opinion?"

Hmm. Starsha, operating the Cosmo-Radar. Wasn't that a bit of a menial position for a queen? And, certainly she couldn't like being under Desslok's command any more than he did. . .

"Confirmed; Terran patrol units, heading right for us!"

"Are you certain, your Majesty?" the Iscandarian radar operator (Rashura) said as his hands flew over the panel. "All I've got is bearing; they must be jamming us!"

"Believe me, it's Terran!" Starsha said. "Recommend immediate liftoff!"

"Venikira, can we do that?" "Conditions aren't optimal, but we can."

"Very well!" Desslok snapped. "Xandir, begin priming the weapons! Mekaer, launch sequence, _now_!"

Mekaer swallowed hard as he looked at the rock covering the forward windows. Taking off under battle conditions was second nature to him, but not when factoring in a 285-meter battleship he had no experience in piloting, which was submerged in a layer of rock which would require a specialized launch sequence, and which had a 50% chance of exploding without even launching. . .

_Sometimes, I really hate being pessimistic._

* * *

 

"Dash, repeat that, if you please."

"The Gamilons and Iscandarians have built a space battleship which they are now launching, sir. I have taken the liberty of launching a force to destroy them as they launch."

Wildstar's eyes narrowed. "This is no doubt a response to the Nova Conspiracy. Ensure they do not escape, Dash. You know what will happen if they succeed."

"Yes. I do."

The screen went black.

"Sir, the 'Nova Conspiracy'?"

"A formerly respected EDF officer who went rogue and committed treason to help this bunch. We'll need to be careful about this, Lieutenant. _Very_ careful."

"Even if it's got Desslok involved?"

" _Especially_ if it's got Desslok involved. I don't even want to _think_ about the consequences of him knowing about this."

* * *

 

"Sir, auxiliary engine powerup completed!" Mekaer shouted, gripping the control sticks with both hands as the ship rocked wildly from another hit. The rock over the windows was starting to slip from the blows that had struck it.

"Aye, powerup completed, now preparing to engage main engine!" Venikira shouted.

"How long until we can fight _back_?" Xandir hissed as he watched the battle display on the main screen.

"Let us do our job and then you can do yours!" Mekaer snapped back as he flipped switches in preparation for the sudden influx of power that would soon follow.

"Another wave is diving!" Starsha shouted.

He flipped on the alert klaxons as the ship rumbled from another hit.

"Talan, can we even _take off_ after the damage they have incurred?"

"We don't have another option!" Talan shot back as he monitored the reports streaming from the separate divisions.

"Can the fighters take off via the upper catapults?" Mekaer asked him as he watched the reading on the power gauge creeping up. 20%. . . 40%. . . 60%. . .

Talan blinked and said, "I don't see why not. . . "

"Then have them launch!" Desslok ordered, and Mekaer saw him give him an approving nod.

"Fighters launching!" Xandir shouted. "Eat it, Terrans!"

"The fighters are successfully pushing the destroyers back," Starsha said. "However, I estimate three minutes until they are destroyed."

"I take it you don't know Kai, ma'am," Mekaer said. "They'll hold them back."

"Open the valve to the Wave-Motion Engine starting cylinder!" Venikira barked. "Two minutes to ignition!"

The deck rumbled again, but this time it was from the whir of the main engine beginning to spin.

"Power level approaching 100%," Mekaer said as he kept his eye on the power gauge. "Begin detonation sequence for demolition charges!"

He pulled back on a lever, and called into the intercom, "Brace for detonation and launch in one minute!"

"Auxiliary engines reaching maximum output!"

"Power level approaching 120%! Activate flywheel!"

"Activate flywheel, _aye_!" Venikira shouted as, far below, the sleek engine began to slowly turn.

"Demolition charges armed!" Xandir called.

"Begin ten second countdown!" Mekaer shouted. He looked up at the screen, gritting his teeth. _Just hold off for ten more seconds. . ._

" _Wait!_ ' Talan shouted. "Severe damage to Engineering spaces! We have to abort!"

" _Belay that!_ " Desslok snapped. "Continue the countdown!"

"My report coincides with Talan's!" Venikira yelled. "We'll have to abort!"

Desslok smiled enigmatically. "Trust me."

Mekaer gave him a strange look, and Desslok nodded ever so slightly. Mekaer turned around and snapped, "Continue the countdown!"

" _Mekaer?_ " Venikira said.

_My thoughts exactly. . . he killed my brother, and yet why do I feel as if I. . . understand him?_

"It'll work!"

"Very well! Continue countdown sequence!"

Mekaer narrowed his eyes as the rock slipped further. _Come on. . ._

"Ten. . . nine. . . "

The ship rocked again, and he heard the sound of an explosion deep within the bowels of the ship.

"Eight. . . seven. . . "

"Leader, we have to abort!"

"Six. . . five. . . "

The flywheel sped up, glowing brightly as the Iscandarium and Gamilashium in its core shone with a deadly emerald-sapphire hue. . .

"Four. . . "

The rock cracked further, revealing blue sky and ships poised to fire. . .

"Three. . . "

Starsha gasped in shock as she felt another psychic presence keeping the ship from dying as she was reborn in a deadly baptism of fire. . .

"Two. . . "

"Demolition charges, _activate_!"

"One. . . "

All around the ship, the carefully placed charges exploded, revealing the massive ship to the Earthlings from the first time.

"Wave Motion Engine, _ignition_!"

" _Yamato, **launch!**_ **"**

The ship and surrounding area rocked with a sound like a peal of thunder as the engine glowed pure white as the ship detached from the crust of Iscandar.

The Space Battleship _Yamato_ lifted free from the surface and blasted towards the shocked Terran fleet like the avenging angel of Gamilon and Iscandar.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight   
October 6, 2199   
1353 Hours, Earth Time   
Earth Defense Headquarters, Megalopolis

The alarms screeched in her ears as Wendy Singleton pivoted and fired the practice-intensity rifle into the guard's thigh. He gasped in pain and fell to the ground as she leaped over him and dashed on through the darkened hallway.

Another guard came from the shadows and grabbed her long brown hair, yanking on it so hard she almost dropped her rifle. "Traitorous conspirator!"

"That's original," she gasped out, struggling to keep her footing. "Did you come up with that all by yourself?"

The guard stamped roughly on her foot. "You'll have all the time you like to make up snarky comments in the brig!"

There was a sound of glass shattering, and then his hand went slack as he toppled over backward.

"And _you,_ " an older voice snapped, "made me waste a perfectly good bottle of Spring Water!"

Wendy sighed and turned to face the stout, balding MD clutching the neck of what had been a glass bottle. "Judging by the smell, I'd say your 'spring water' is anything but."

"I saw you downing plenty of this stuff last Wednesday."

"And had a splitting headache for five days afterwards."

Suddenly, a tall Marine grabbed Sane by the back of his shirt and lifted him to shoulder height, kicking and screaming curses. Wendy moved to rescue him, but she was beaten to the punch.

Literally, as a fist rammed right into the nose of the Marine, and then a foot hit him in the stomach.

"Sorry I'm late," a gruff voice said as the owner of the fist stepped through a gaping hole in the wall that she swore had not been there five seconds ago. "Got a bit tied up replacing all the confidential files with Wildstar's baby pictures."

"Captain!" she yelled happily.

Avatar nodded and adjusted his cap. "As the Marines are learning, old people can be just as skilled at the fine art of breaking someone's nose as anyone else. Now, where is our good friend Nova?"

"Same place we were trying to get to before I had to waste my sak - _spring water_ \- on his head," Sane grumbled as he gestured to the unconscious guard.

Avatar chuckled and suddenly executed a perfect _ushiro mawashi geri_ right into an approaching officer's ribcage. He went down with a sharp groan.

"Are you certain she is safe?" he demanded, straightening up. Wendy nodded, still slightly dazed by the speed of his attack. "She has IQ with her."

"Ah. Nothing like a robot with an unerasable crush to provide unflinching bodyguard duty." He turned and walked down the hall, Captain's peacoat billowing out behind him.

The floor shook as a wall exploded inwards, showering them all with dust and small fragments of bulkhead. Then the guards swarmed them.

Wendy was only aware of a few distinct sensations as she alternately bashed and shot people with her rifle. Doctor Sane's high-pitched voice split the air as he assaulted the other with his 'Spring Water' bottles, followed by Avatar's deeper, more gravelly _kiai_ as he fought his way through more enemies than both of them combined.

She was more than a little surprised at the skill he exhibited. She had heard the stories of his martial abilities, but she hadn't realized they were actually _true_.

A distinctly non-human battle cry startled her out of her thoughts as a certain self-proclaimed genius robot crashed into the ranks of the soldiers, freely tossing them in all directions.

"IQ, try not to kill anybody, okay?"

Wendy turned at the sound of the soft alto, and immediately noticed the slender form and blonde hair of her best friend, Nova Forrester.

IQ responded with something completely incomprehensible, and Nova sighed and turned. Her face lit up when she saw the three of them, especially Avatar.

"Captain," she said with a gentle smile. "You're here, at last." She pulled them all into a hug, and then said, "It worked. They got the message."

"The Gamilons are coming?" Avatar said, stroking his white beard with his free hand. "Excellent work, Nova."

Nova blushed slightly at his praise, and turned back to the board. "But there's something I can't access," she said softly, almost to herself. "It's obviously about the war, but I can't find out what. . . "

Someone popped up from between the consoles, and Nova immediately kicked him in the head.

Wendy scratched her head. "Is everyone except me some sort of martial arts master?"

Sane took a long swig of his bottle and said, " _Si est ad esse asinum calce, Nova est qui calcitrare eam_."

"True enough."

Nova let out a shocked gasp and said, "They're coming _here_?" She looked over at the clock. "Ten minutes. . . we have to go, now."

Wendy ran up beside her. "Why - ?" She broke off as she read the line of text:

_"Gamilon prisoners from Rajendora battle on 17 August to arrive at 1403 Hours at Megalopolis, Dock Eight."_


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine  
October 6, 2199   
1358 Hours, Earth Time   
Space Battleship _Yamato_ , Above the Surface of Iscandar

"Fire!" Xandir yelled, the first order of attack the _Yamato_ had heard in over a thousand years.

The main guns went off, sending bright blue energy flashing across the bleached plain towards the fleet, sending fire and shrapnel raining down on the surface of Iscandar.

Mekaer pulled back on the controls, sending the ship flying skyward into the ranks of the enemy.

"Missiles, fire!" Xandir barked. At his order, the missiles streaked into the Terran battleships, forcing them to scatter.

The destroyers were easy prey for the fighter squadrons, who took great pleasure in adding to the flashes of light burning in the sky from the _Yamato_ 's attacks.

"Mekaer, get us under their firing angle!" Desslok ordered.

Mekaer gritted his teeth, barked out a terse, "Hold on, everybody!" and tilted the ship to starboard as another volley of Earthling fire came roaring in.

It never hit its target. The _Yamato_ twisted between the blasts in a move that made the battleship's superstructure groan from the strain as the beams streaked past the windows. As he spun the ship, one of the blasts skipped across the window, leaving plasma residue on the clear crystal.

The _Yamato_ ended up facing the rest of the enemy fleet, and Xandir took the opportunity to send several sapphire beams into the trailing destroyers before the ship spun one last time and ended up alongside the enemy flagship.

The entire bridge crew stared at him in shocked silence, before Desslok said, with a slight chuckle in his voice, "Impressive maneuver, my friend. Open fire!"

Mekaer was so focused on the 'my friend' comment that he jumped slightly when the guns went off and delivered a ferocious broadside right into the Terran flagship. Explosions began to ripple through the ship's hull, and Mekaer swiftly twisted the controls to the side and blasted away as the ship exploded behind them.

A battleship loomed up in front of them, weapons trained on the bridge. Before any of them could react, the guns trembled and exploded, a group of fighters flying triumphant through the fire.

"Sorry we're late!" Kai shouted over the intercom. "Got a little tied up kicking the Terrans back to _Centur Klishkai_!"

Desslok smiled slightly as he watched the fighters turning to form a screen around the ship.

"The ships are lining up for a shot at Mothertown!" Rashura snapped, bringing up an overhead image of the enemy fleet.

"Mekaer, full speed into the enemy fleet. Xandir, prepare for full broadside firing."

"Sir - !" the crew shouted, staring at him. Desslok smiled. They were unaware of his strategies. For the moment.

He met Talan's eyes and nodded slightly. Talan turned to the others and snapped, "You heard him. Do it!"

Mekaer scowled angrily as he looked at him. He was a skilled warrior, bu there was resentment in his heart. Resentment well-founded.

The Navigation Commander turned around sharply and sent the ship blasting forwards, straight into the heart of the Terran fleet.

Desslok closed his eyes and said softly, "Now."

The main guns fired, turning to either side as they did. This maneuver made them serve almost as a sword as they cut into the Earth ships, sending them spinning into their counterparts.

Within a few moments, the area was quiet, save for the light of the wreckage burning as it fell to the surface below.

Xandir leaned back in his seat and said, "Kansir, you are one nice shot."

The black-haired Gamilon officer sighed and said, "Thanks, but it's the ship that's doing all the work." He patted his console. "She's more powerful than anything I've seen or had the pleasure of fighting on."

"Majesties," the communications officer said, turning around, "a message from the Gamilon Command."

"Switch it to the video panel, Quezar," Starsha said in her gentle voice.

The screen flickered and changed to an image of Senior General Krypt, who saluted and said, "Leader, we're picking up a new ship on our radar systems. I take it you have successfully launched."

"Indeed, Krypt," Desslok said, smirking, "and, along with it, have achieved our first unconditional victory against the Terrans."

Krypt's face lit up with joy as the loud sounds of cheering were heard in the background. "That is. . . excellent news," he said with a wide smile. "It seems all the suspicions were correct. Gamilon and Iscandar, together, truly can surpass any opponent." He saluted again as the image faded out.

Mekaer got to his feet, saying as he did, "Rashura, you can get some flying time in. I'm going to meet Kai and offer him my congratulations." The Iscandarian officer slid behind the controls, and Mekaer turned and headed for the exit, only barely managing to keep his military decorum.

Desslok looked around at the bridge crew, who still kept their solemn facade, even though he knew they wanted to celebrate. Of course, they were intimidated by his presence. Chuckling to himself, he said casually, "Talan, alert me if there are any concerns," and flicked the switch which activated the chair lift. As anticipated, it was mere moments before Talan walked in and locked the door behind him.

"I don't suppose there's anywhere for me to sit?" he asked, looking around the cabin.

Desslok laughed, watching the sky fade to the black of space. "Of course not."

Talan rolled his eyes and walked up to stand beside him. "And why did you leave the bridge, my friend? There was no need."

Desslok shook his head. "Nonsense. I am Desslok, Leader of Gamilon. They will not throw a party with me present."

"And what of Queen Starsha?"

"You saw how she addressed that 'Quezar.' She does not stand much on formality. So long as they do not desert their postings, she will allow them to throw as wild a celebration as they desire."

Talan snickered. "And Mekaer? Why did you allow him to leave?" There was a short pause, and then he said, "Ah. So, it was a ploy to make him think you are not as cruel as he is led to believe?"

"Finally, I do not have to explain my planning to you."

"But you still haven't answered my question," Talan said. "I see the point about the party, but why is it so necessary?"

Desslok closed his eyes and said softly, "You heard what I told Krypt. 'Our first unconditional victory.' They will want to celebrate that. As they should, for I fear there will not be much cause for celebration in the coming months."

* * *

"Yeah!" Mekaer shouted, punching Kai lightly on the arm as he leaped from his fighter. "That blowing up of the battleship? _That's_ what I'm talking about!"

Kai grinned back as he playfully bopped his friend and former CO on the head with his helmet. "We finally got it! Hey, I think the brass are pretty glad to have a former fighter pilot as their head of Navigation!"

Kai's XO (Harusik) chuckled and said, "Yeah! Those moves you pulled, those were amazing!"

Mekaer laughed as he clapped him on the back. "If we keep it up, maybe we'll be able to win this thing after all!"

The three laughed uproariously, and then Kai said, "How is it, working with the Iscandarians?"

"You'd be surprised. There's still a couple who get on our cases about having to kill, but most of them regard this as 'a necessary evil.'"

"Whoa," Harusik said with a small grin. "Impressive."

Mekaer nodded and said, "I should probably get back to the bridge. Who knows if the Terrans are still snooping around out there."

He disentangled himself from his fellow pilots and waved to them as he headed for the lift.

As he disembarked on the bridge and made his way to his seat, Rashura got to his feet and, after a moment of indecision, gave him a salute. When Mekaer raised his eyebrows, Rashura lowered his hand and said, very solemnly, "As of this moment, I formally declare that I couldn't care less if you're Gamilon." He patted him on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Mekaer. And a great pilot."

He smiled for the first time in months as he sat down behind the controls. Xandir turned to him, offering words of congratulations as they both stared out the windows towards empty space.

For the first time, it was they who had the advantage. And they would not be defeated so easily.


End file.
